Luyện nghe bài hát The Heat

Yeah, yeah.
Its a no I.D. Trackster production.

Twista..
I'm a giant, astrological science
rappin violence,
I'm such a tyrant.
Verbal telekinesis is fellas to pieces,
hell of a thesis, but holy you could tell its from Jesus.
As as Pelican Brief is,
with the of a sorcerer, never put fork in a pork,
I'm the orchestra.
your formula,
cause im a thesaurus of versus,
or its a chorus or more i smoke a forrest.
powers like Morphius, Orcious like the orical,
portable mp3 let you play whats recordable.
Ledgendary Trackster, not scared to bury a rapper,
I'm up for the beef, you just a actor.
Identification is have to go by me cause long as i dont got no I.D.
dont got no I.V.
Intravenously poetry pedeialite I'ma um,
They said it was hot so the media hype.

Most people waiting, no no escaping,
the heat.
The heat.
The heat no escape yall]
the heat [no back, im here forever]

i recolect the era where and recommendations
of wreckin the mic, a mack with no hesitation.
Meditation or not, I'm my praises to Allah,
thoughts of takin shit harder an throwin at the Cahaba.
days is bout the dolla,
all of um into ballin, sounds scannin the cannon
you ask if its all appallin.
All the braggin is saggin an swaggin an drugs,
an the thug in tight pants an happen to yes yall,
an, sometimes I cant help the when i kick random rhymes,
make you shut the fuck up sinuses or pantomimes,
write a for you as if you a fan of mine,
cause i got you trippin off the way my rhyme.
on my dictation is evident I'm benevolent,
cause the flow is elegant, throw an elephant.
They shoulda told um i flow like petroleum,
an i been cold at the podium sense break on linoleum.

Most waiting, no theres no escaping,
the heat. [aint no yall]
The heat.
The heat. [Tracksta, no I.D.]
The heat. [mr immortality, im forever]

Coolin with the eatin rum fish,
is crisp,
cant stand niggas an fake bitches.
make me upset my stomach,
them killas will come the bathroom an tie up yer hunny.
I'm all about my coins but fly Goines a rat,
fuck wit fly chicken loins.
You know it, you blow it, you gotta go,
you cant here, word to the mamas thats a no.
by dons an consularies,
dont get glarey, a might fall.
Dont worry you a good nigga, in that zone,
you speakin to a rich, rap nigga,
on his throne. yeah.
Kiss yer forehead lead,
i got some Chicago nigga that do it quick fast for bread.
An my lawyer, an prince,
slid to America with 3 bags of in black bags.

Most people waiting, no no escaping,
the heat.
The heat.
The heat.
The heat.